


strategic intervention

by twistedsky



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedsky/pseuds/twistedsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not canon-compliant. When opportunity strikes, Laurel pounces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strategic intervention

**Author's Note:**

> I took liberties with canon, especially since most(but not all) of this was written before 1x05. Vague mentions of sex and canon murder.

On the first day of Annalise Keating’s class, Laurel Castillo knows one thing: she needs to make an impression.

Irritatingly, she makes the wrong one, and now she’s just the girl who stole a learning opportunity from another student.

That hadn’t been her intention, of course.

She’s never been good at this part of things. She knows what’s right, and sometimes she even knows how to do it, but somewhere along the line she screws things up.

This is just another lesson, she thinks. One of many filed away in her dos and don’ts section of her brain, which is supposed to keep her on track.

She has plans, she has _purpose_.

~~

They call her Frank’s Girl, and Frank tells her that she’s going to end up married and pregnant, and then she’ll quit her job because she hates it, because it destroys her inside. _Such a cliché,_ he means, and it infuriates her.

He’s a gross, misogynistic ass, but somehow she appreciates his words. Not for what they are, no, but for how they make her feel.

She is invigorated.  

He doesn’t know what she’s made of, but _she_ does.

Bonnie says she’s not sure why any of them are there, that if she wants to mean something, then she has to prove herself.

Laurel can be unimpressive, and underestimated, and sometimes that works out for her.

She needs to be something else now, she reminds herself.

There’s a reason she’s in law school, and there’s a reason she’s one of Annalise Keating’s chosen few.

~~

“The quiet ones are usually the most dangerous,” Keating says, and Laurel feels that to her core.

Don’t forget her, she thinks.

She can be dangerous too.

“I guess you’re not so useless after all,” Bonnie says later, and Laurel doesn’t even bother to seethe with anger. It’s a backhanded compliment, but she’ll take it.

~~

Laurel believes in things like justice and fairness, but she also knows that sometimes they don’t exist.

She’s not naïve. She knows where power comes from, and she knows the best way to protect yourself from being taken advantage of, from being vulnerable, is to get some for yourself.

She cares about people, yes, and so when the others make fun of Wes she lashes out. It's the same reason she hates most of their clients.

She can’t help herself, because it’s how she’s built.

The privileged will always protect themselves first, she knows, and leave everyone else to rot.

And more often than that, they’ll speed that rotting and devastating along, trading the sacrifice of others for their own personal gain.

Laurel learns to hate people this way. This is the way she learns how the world really works.

Laurel believes in justice, but she also believes in survival.

One day she’ll make life and death decisions, and people will speak of her with the reverence they use for fools and false prophets of ideology. But she'll be the real deal, she swears to herself. 

Laurel knows where the power is in this world, and she intends to take some for herself. And unlike others, she thinks, she’ll use it to _protect_.

~~

Frank looks at her like he wants something.

She’s not stupid. She knows what he wants.

When the others go off to search for information for a case, and she’s right behind them, ready to prove herself, ready to get the job done, Bonnie pulls her aside.

“Frank’s not a bad guy,” Bonnie tells her. “He’s not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But that attention, and the hierarchy here—don’t let that coerce you into doing anything either.”

“I won’t,” Laurel promises.

Bonnie smiles slightly, like she’s almost proud. “Good girl. Keep your eye on the prize." She sighs, slightly, "And if you sleep with Frank, do it just because you want to.”

Laurel smiles back, and for a moment she enjoys a shining moment of almost mentorship, but then Bonnie’s smile fades back into that hard, businesslike line, and Laurel scoots off to take care of what she needs to do.

~~

She meets a guy in a bar, and he’s hot, and he’s funny, and she likes him.

She hears later that the night she met this guy could have gone very differently—Frank was there, she learns, and she wonders what that means.

She’s not sure how it makes her feel, and so she buries it.

She has much more important things to worry about.

~~

Laurel has never been a cheater before, and she’s never had any intention of being one.

She doesn’t like to hurt people unnecessarily, and she isn’t cruel by nature, but things happen.

She takes full responsibility for the slip. She made a _mistake_ , and she hurt someone, and it’s all a goddamned mess.

She doesn’t sleep with Frank, if that’s what you’re thinking.

She’s drunk and celebrating a verdict, and Professor Keating isn't there, so it’s not like she has to try to still be professional and completely on top of her game.

“Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” Bonnie asks, sidling up next to her at the bar.

“Probably,” Laurel replies. “But it’s important to bond with the group.” It’s not, she thinks, but it’s important to make sure they don’t bond without her.

One day, something is going to happen, and she is not going to be the odd woman out.

Plus, she likes Wes, and Michaela’s not too bad when she’s happy, but not gloating, and Connor and Asher—well, they’re Connor and Asher.

“By bond with the group you mean make sure your competition doesn’t do anything while you’re not watching?” Bonnie asks knowingly, turning to the bar and lifting up her empty drink and ordering another one.

Laurel just takes a sip of her own. “I’m not nearly that devious,” she says, and that’s only partially true.

They’re all devious, just in different ways.

Bonnie laughs and turns to the bartender, “Another for my friend here, please. On me.”

The bartender nods, and Laurel finishes off her own. Well, free drinks are always appreciated.

Free drinks are less appreciated later(or maybe more), when Bonnie’s head is in-between her thighs and she’s a cheater, but a very satisfied one at least.

~~

She wakes up in her own bed, but Bonnie is sleeping next to her.  Her skin is soft, and her curves are gentle. Yes, definitely Bonnie, she notes.

Her head is pounding, but she doesn’t feel nauseated, so at least there’s that.

She closes her eyes and remembers flashes of the night before—Bonnie’s mouth on her own, Bonnie’s hands on her breasts, her mouth on her clit. These are all excellent memories, she thinks, shaking herself free of them, but they don’t really tell her what she’s supposed to do now that it’s happened.

She almost laughs at the situation. If she’d slept with Frank, she thinks, she wonders what would be going through her mind.

Laurel looks back at Bonnie and wonders if she should offer her food or coffee, and thinks she’d probably be thinking exactly the same thing.

Bonnie wakes up, groaning and sighing, and immediately starts looking for her clothing.

Laurel just watches, and wonders what she’s going to say when she’s dressed, when she’s ready to leave. She wonders if she should feel awkward now, she wonders if they’ll do this again.

She’d like to, she thinks.

“I can hear you thinking over here,” Bonnie comments, and Laurel winces.

“Oh.”

“You’re thinking about what this means, or why this happened, or maybe you’re having some sort of bi-crisis.”

“I’m not,” Laurel cuts in. “I already knew that.” 

“Well, good for you,” Bonnie says with a shake of her head. “That’s one less thing to worry about.”

Laurel feels a wave of anger begin to flush over her, but then Bonnie meets her eyes and her face softens ever so slightly. “I had a good time,” she says, with no buts or recriminations.

“Me too,” Laurel says, and she’s thinking about that offer of food or coffee again, but then Bonnie’s phone chimes with a message, and then her own does too.

“We’ve got a case,” Bonnie says, all business once again.

Laurel looks down at herself and winces.

Bonnie’s gone before Laurel even manages to turn toward her closet.

~~

She breaks things off with her boyfriend, and though he’s a little upset, he’s not too heartbroken.

They hadn’t been together very long, and they’re both busy people. They’ve both got more important things to do than tend to a relationship that’s already doomed.

He’s cute, and nice, but she has her eye on someone else.

~~

She sleeps with Bonnie again, but Bonnie usually only initiates when she's upset about something. Laurel doesn't mind, because she's got her own stuff to worry about, and when she does occasionally make a move, Bonnie's often receptive. 

Bonnie doesn’t say what she's upset about when she comes to her, but Laurel has the feeling it’s another person. Laurel doesn’t have the right to be jealous, but she is curious.

After, one time, Bonnie turns to her and says, “I’m in love with someone else, so—“ Bonnie winces at her words. “I am such a cliché,” she says, self-hatred evident. “I’m not telling you not to get attached for my own benefit,” Bonnie says softly. “So that if you get hurt, you only have yourself to blame. I’m just warning you, because I’m not going to fall in love with you, so just—“ Bonnie shakes her head, and her usual persona is back in place. “Be careful, and try not to screw this up.”

Laurel thinks she’s doing exactly what she says she’s not—she’s shifting blame if this goes wrong.

“So, how wrong for you is the person you’re in love with then?” Laurel asks, not unkindly.

Bonnie is quiet for a moment, but then she just laughs. “You don’t even want to know.”

She does, she thinks, despite herself.

~~

Laurel is smarter than people give her credit for sometimes. She watches, she discerns, she discovers.

Bonnie is sleeping with Sam Keating.

Laurel isn’t sure whether to be jealous or impressed, or disgusted.

Too many options, she thinks, and maybe a little of them all.

She wonders if she should tell Annalise out of some sort of solidarity, but there’s something in the way that Annalise looks at her husband, something about the way that they interact(especially now, since they’ve taken on Rebecca’s case), that says that she knows.

Maybe she doesn’t know about Bonnie(it's really just too hard to tell at this point), but she knows something.

There’s something about Annalise and Sam Keating that reminds Laurel to be careful. You choose the person you love and marry with great care, she thinks, because if you don’t you’ll end up hating them, or at least being disgusted by them. There's something incredibly sad, she thinks, about love gone sour.

For some reason this thought makes her turn to look at Bonnie. She looks away quickly before anyone noticing her staring.

She isn’t in love with Bonnie, she’d say.

Love is—love is not like this.

~~

The weeks pass by too quickly, and Laurel _wants_ things she can’t ask for.

She knows she can’t have them, and she can’t be that girl—that girl who falls in love even though they’re told not to.

Laurel finds herself watching Bonnie and smiling slightly when she’s supposed to be focused on something entirely different, or scooting a little closer in bed while Bonnie is still asleep, and _wanting_ her constantly.

It isn’t love, she swears.

It’s irrational, and pointless, and for now she’ll simply enjoy it.

~~

Bonnie ends their—well, whatever it is.

“We’re not doing this anymore,” she says, and Laurel feels something sink from her chest down to her stomach.

There’s a tightness there, and she hates it.

Maybe, she thinks, she feels _something._

Maybe, she thinks, this is what love is.

She’s not sure if she understands the appeal.

~~

Now, she sleeps with Frank.

She hates herself for it a little, and maybe, yeah, she’ll burn in hell, but when later she’s burning a body and Frank is calling her when they’re trying to _cover up a murder_ , she wants to laugh. She uses him later, makes him do what Michaela can’t, what _she_ can’t.

The others mock her, but they don’t know what she’s made of either, not even now.

This is not a game, she thinks, but it functions much the same as a chess game. There are so many pieces, so many concerns, but only one true objective.

This is ridiculous, she thinks.

She’s not getting caught, she’s not going to jail, and they are going to fix this right now.

She speaks of alibis and votes to burn the body, and clean away the murder weapon.

This is all going to go away, she thinks.

~~

Laurel is an opportunist.

Some people make things happen, like Connor who manipulates like he cares about nothing until he’s falling apart from the consequences of it all. Michaela pushes things into being through force of will, and Wes—well, Wes negotiates, he pokes and prods and exploits the weaknesses he finds. Laurel understands his approach the best, she thinks.

But Laurel Castillo is an opportunist.

There’s something to be said for plausible deniability, for insisting that you didn’t really see how this terrible thing was actually going to benefit you.

Sam Keating is missing, they say.

They say he murdered Lila, that he’d been afraid of being captured, and so now he’s gone.

Laurel and the others set up a trail that eventually runs cold, so that it really looks like he’s just _gone_.

Maybe she can live with herself if she tries to believe that lie—or maybe the Laurel she’d thought she’d been would have done that. She would have lived in denial.

But maybe she doesn’t know herself all that well, because she’s accepted what she’s done.

Everything, she thinks, comes with a price.

~~

She dries away Bonnie’s tears, and swears she had no idea that she was involved with Sam.

She wonders outwardly where he could be—“Maybe he’s just on a beach somewhere, bathing in the sun and enjoying the sea.”

Bonnie almost looks like she feels better about that, but Laurel thinks she might be angry at the idea that Sam hadn’t taken her with him.

Bonnie doesn’t completely fall apart, of course. She’s a strong woman, but even strong women are _real_ women with real emotions.

Who doesn’t cry a little when the person they love leaves them?

Well, Laurel thinks, she’s a good friend, and she’ll make sure that Bonnie’s heart heals up just fine.

And when Frank insists on calling her and trying to make something out of nothing, she shuts him down quickly, but kindly.

She's chosen her path.

~~

Sam Keating was a guilty man, Laurel knows, and he deserves what came to him.

Justice, she thinks, is fierce, and not always legal.

She comforts Bonnie, staying perfectly friendly, and not pressuring her at all. They don’t sleep together again, or kiss, or much of anything.

Laurel has never seen such a together person fall apart, but she helps her put herself back together, and then she steps back.

Laurel is opportunistic, and she knows this.

Bonnie calls her a month or two after classes are over and asks her out on a real date.

Laurel readily accepts. This, she thinks, is her future.

Frank’s words reverberate through her mind, and she knows they’re wrong.

Laurel Castillo is not _that_ girl.  

She's not the girl who hates her job and ends up married and quits her job for her babies. She'll have babies one day, maybe, probably, but for now she is a warrior. Not a girl, a _woman._

She's going to finish law school, and further along her plan to protect those who the system readily abuses.

She may not be as outwardly impressive as the others, but that doesn’t matter. She handled her end of things, didn’t she? 

Laurel Castillo does not just survive, she _thrives._

It takes surprisingly little to make her life exactly as she wishes it to be. A little murder in the meantime is simply _justice._

And she, she knows, will prevail as a dispenser of that justice.


End file.
